


this old town

by skiecas



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (esp. takana and noya), Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunions, also grown-up awkward kagehinas, being dorks together, just a lot of karasuno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8451037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skiecas/pseuds/skiecas
Summary: "Kageyama, from here on out if you start getting bombarded with interviews, you’re gonna say, 'I learned everything I know from a magnificent senpai called Sugawara.'"





	

Smoke fills their ears and taunts their noses, but despite the numerous complaints from the men— _boys,_ still, but they’re getting there—rubbing elbows in the minimal space Sakanoshita Store has to offer, Ukai still doesn’t stop puffing. For perhaps the umpteenth time, he grumbles a complaint somewhere along the lines of “why do we all have to be in _here,_ why couldn’t they meet at someone’s damn _house?”_ before Takeda reminds him (without meaning harm, honestly) that he doesn’t _have_ any customers to scare away in the first place, and Tanaka and Nishinoya snigger somewhere in a corner when his cigarette goes limp at the unexpected jibe. He huffs, slouches back in his chair, and finally falls silent.

Hinata’s grinning, for once thankful for his stature for it allows him to scooch, undetected and unhindered, ever closer to the TV around these tall, looming ex-teammates of his. Five years have passed, and he swears Ukai-san’s miniature television has only gotten smaller and fuzzier in that time.

Suga is the first to call for order. “Wait, _shh,_ I think it’s on, you guys.”

A hush falls over the team—or as much of a hush as they can manage, with Nishinoya wrestling with Ennoshita for a better view and Tanaka digging his knuckles into Tsukishima for murmuring something that had sounded like “who the fuck _cares?”—_ until Hinata squeaks loudly (” _OWOOH!”)_ and almost knocks over the small television in his haste to jab a finger at the screen. A title card announces the press conference, and then a name flashes at the bottom of the screen, presenting the athlete under the spotlight: _Kageyama Tobio._

Familiar, blue eyes stare back at them, slightly vacant but made fierce by the eyebrows kissing above lashes. A hard, slanted line for a mouth completes the look.

“He hasn’t changed one bit,” Asahi comments, affectionately.

“Still looks like he’s got diarrhea or something,” Hinata scoffs, gleefully, and feels someone nudge him amidst the collective snickers, though he never unsticks his eyes from what’s taking place on the screen. This is his old partner. It feels surreal.

“Kageyama-san,” asks the reporter sweetly, batting her pretty lashes for the camera, “how does it feel to finally have taken your team to the semi-finals?”

Kageyama fidgets uncomfortably in his chair, tugs at the bowtie someone had somehow managed to wring around his neck, and glances once at the camera. “It wasn’t even the finals, only the semi-finals. We’ll do better next time.” His lips slant further. “And I didn’t _take_ them anywhere. We all went—together.”

“Looks like he’s changed a little at least,” Ennoshita murmurs, smiling, and they all instinctively know he’s speaking of middle school Kageyama, not first-year-at-Karasuno-with-these-teammates Kageyama. Everyone’s smiling, just a little.

 _“But,”_ the reporter challenges him, “you were named MVP for this tournament, were you not? Would you say you owe your success as a setter to your old middle school senpai, currently one of the top international players, Oikawa Tooru?”

“Uh oh.”

It’s unclear who says it, but everyone is thinking it.

A huffy sort of look clouds Kageyama’s gaze, when he’s reminded of their old high school rival in the white and blue. A begrudging “I _guess”_ is all he has to say on the matter. Oikawa seems like a distant memory now, but Hinata is sure he’ll always remember the look on Kageyama’s face when they’d learned he’d been scouted immediately after high school to play abroad and had left them all in the dust. Well, Kageyama had caught up soon enough.

“Stupid pretty boy traitor, betraying Japan for some fancy-schmancy American team,” Nishinoya grumbles, though one stern look from Daichi silences him again.

“Rather than Oikawa-san, though—”

Red tints Kageyama’s cheeks, so unexpected, and they all lean towards the tiny TV with interest. Even Ukai’s stopped sulking long enough to crane his neck.

“I owe everything to a m-magnificent senpai I once had.” He stares down at his knees. “Sugawara-san.”

There’s a loud, audible gasp, and all eyes swivel to Suga, whose mouth is still hanging open until Daichi reaches over and promptly shuts it. Flattery softens his features, and he whispers,  _“That kid,_ I can’t believe he _remembered.”_

Asahi shakes his head. “I told you not to fill his head with that rubbish. Kageyama is the type who takes everything too seriously.”

“Stop being so jealous, Asahi, your pettiness is showing through.”

_“I wasn’t—”_

_“Shh.”  
_

Kageyama’s far from done. Staring down at his hands like they would give him answers (which they just might, since he’d always tended to scribble important things all over his palms given his brain’s horrible capacity for remembering non-volleyball things), he begins to list names of the others who had wanted a mention.

“And Tanaka-san, and Nishinoya-san.” The two boys are nearly in tears, clinging to one another and blubbering about how many girls would want them now and how they would definitely take Kageyama out for a drink some time as a show of gratitude. “A-And Sawamura-san.”

Most everyone gapes at their ex-captain. After a brief, awkward pause, he shrugs and gruffly defends himself. “Hey, I figured Kageyama had the highest shot of all of us going professional, and Suga’s idea didn’t seem half bad. I caught him after practice.”

“That’s certainly a lot of people, Kageyama-san. Were they all high school teammates?”

“Yes.” He swallows lumpishly. “Karasuno.”

As soon as the name leaves his lips, a sort of warmth settles over the group. Suddenly Sakanoshita Store is their old second gymnasium, familiar sounds of sneakers on floorboards and the _thunk_ of volleyballs and “don’t mind, don’t mind!” drowning out anything else. Takeda, ever the sap, has to pull off his glasses to wipe at his eyes underneath, but even Yachi seems close to tears, and Ukai’s smiling as he tap-tap-taps the register and takes a drag. The boys shuffle closer together, perfectly still, eyes glued to their old teammate. They can’t be more proud.

“Ah, yes, if I remember correctly, your victory over powerhouse Shiratorizawa Academy gave you much publicity at the time. Speaking of, how does it feel to have once-rival Ushijima Wakatoshi now be your teammate—”

“W-Wait,” Kageyama croaks, surprising the reporter. He looks like he’s about to choke, his face is so purple. “There’s just one more—well, I just wanted to add—I owe everything to Hin—!”

Then he clams up at the last second.

The store and everyone in it is completely still, silent, watching it take place. Hinata feels his heart thudding against his ribcage, pulsing through his fingertips, echoing in his ears.

“Yes? Kageyama-san, did you want to say something?”

“I-I... no, I...” He looks left, right, sees no escape, and simply glares a hole into his hands. “No. Never mind.”

“...All right.” And so the reporter, despite her suspicious gaze, reiterates her previous question, and Kageyama replies that working with Ushijima is _fine, just fine_ even though his pinched face seems to suggest otherwise, and then they talk about different setting techniques, and Kageyama’s training regimen, and whether Kageyama has a special girl in his life (a firm  _“no”_ puts an abrupt end to that topic). The single, strange incident is forgotten.

But Hinata stares at the TV long, long after the interview reaches its end, after the screen goes black and his ex-teammates pull away to disperse.

 

 

_(Ne, Kageyama)?_

_(What were you going to say)?_

 

 

The sun sets by the time the boys finally allow Ukai some peace of mind in his own store. Takeda has to push him to treat them to popsicles ( _”Thirteen_ popsicles for _free?_ Does it look like this store’s swimmin’ in money? They’re not even my team anymore, and at least three of ‘em gotta be working by now. Of course, I don’t mind treating the girls, but these boys gotta learn some time that life comes at a price. And so do popsicles.”), but eventually they all leave with one in hand—except for Nishinoya, who had somehow managed to wrangle out _two._

Seven years since this old team (minus Kageyama) has been together. Things have changed; the old third-years have become even more like adults than Hinata had thought them to be so back in high school; the second-years have life to plan ahead of them, though two out of five still seem as carefree as ever; and even his old fellow first-years have impressive stories to tell. Hinata tries to be part of every conversation at once, not wanting to miss catching up with _anyone,_ though Tsukishima rudely tells him to mind his own business when he tries to eavesdrop on him telling Yamaguchi about his flight home.

Eventually, however, they all turn to the same, unanimous topic: Kageyama.

“Twitchy, nervous little thing, wasn’t he?” Tsukishima comments snidely.

Yachi looks green in the face. “Being on national TV must be _so nerve-wracking!”_

“I still can’t believe that angel remembered all us little people back home.” Suga pretends to sniffle, wiping at imaginary tears until Daichi, who’s grinning, shoves him hard.

They laugh over that hideous bowtie, marvel at what an intense training schedule he’s got nowadays, ponder how grueling it must be having Wakatoshi as a teammate. Noya wonders whether he’s ever met the national girls’ team and whether they’re _really_ that pretty in person. Tanaka thinks aloud that maybe Kageyama’s got an eight-pack now, with such rigorous training. Kinoshita comments on how much his haircut really suits him, makes him look older. The third years start up a talk on all his stats over the past five years. Then Yachi brings up old memories, and they all remember their fondest ones, and Hinata doesn’t realize he’d been so engrossed in Kageyama-talk that he’d let his popsicle melt until it’s dampened his fingers.

Just once more, the talk turns to his mentions. They remark only once on that peculiar moment at the end, before the four honored boys get pelted with balled up popsicle wrappers for being such “greedy, opportunistic brats.”

Amidst all the noisy chatter, Hinata is the only one who hears when Narita puts a finger to his chin, frowns, and quietly muses, “But didn’t it sound like he was going to say _Hinata?”_

He spins the popsicle in his mouth, staring down at his feet, and feels like every lick of him is _aflame._

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Stepping into Karasuno’s second gymnasium, no matter how much Natsu might call him cheesy and embarrassing for voicing the thought, feels like coming _home._ And Hinata knows he’ll never find truer teammates than the ones he’d had in this building, because when they wander through the same old sliding doors, they each murmur the same thing.

Asahi sighs. “Feels kinda like coming home after a long time, doesn’t it?” he muses, smiling, and Daichi and Suga don’t even kick him in the shins because they’re smiling up at the tall ceiling themselves.

Hinata meets them at the door. “Thank you for doing this! I-I know you must be busy...”

“Ahh, don’t worry, Hinata, I’m as free as I want to be,” Asahi assures him kindly.

“And I haven’t played in what feels like _ages,”_ Daichi says, Suga echoing the thought behind him. “It feels good to be back. But you sure you want these old geezers helping you out with the young ones? What if we can’t keep up?”

“You’re _hardly_ geezers,” Ennoshita laughs, unexpectedly coming up behind them. “If you’ve dropped even one kilo in muscle mass, _Captain,_ then I’ll eat my textbook.”

Suga pokes his best friend in the side. “Daichi’s thick, for sure.”

“I’m gonna murder you in your sleep.”

They all leave the two to bicker by the entrance, though Asahi looks quite done with their antics and Hinata’s giggling like mad to see his old captain turning so red in color. Instead they save the young boys on the team from the hands of Tanaka and Noya, who’re sizing up the newest arrivals but mostly just making them quiver and wish their mothers hadn’t made them sign up for some sport for the year. Hinata hopes he can change that mentality with this game he’s rounded up for today, with the alumni of the best and most passionate team he’s ever had.

“Uhh, is everyone here?” He double checks the headcount. Tsukishima and Yachi had, of course, been unable to accommodate and take a flight out from university for this one game. At least Yachi had apologized; Tsukishima had answered with “we’re not all as free as _you”_ before promptly hanging up the phone, and when he’d tried calling again a few days later, he’d found that the number had changed (which Hinata thought was a bit extreme, honestly). But Yamaguchi is there, in the back with one of the shyer kids on the team, who seems to find his subdued presence rather soothing.

Noya zooms past him, laughing, “Nope! We’re missing one!”

Hinata frowns. He knows he’s always been bad at math but even he can handle simple counting. “Uhh, who...?”

“You _see,_ Shouyou!” he booms, proudly pointing his thumb at himself. “Your _super cool_ Nishinoya-senpai has managed to land you a _super cool_ guest star for today. So don’t say I never did anything for ya!”

Despite himself, a thrill runs down Hinata’s spine. Who could it be? Surely not the Small Giant, after all these years of idol worship? _Oh,_ he hopes it’s the Small Giant!

 _“Who,_ Noya-san—!”

But that question answers itself, with the sliding of the gymnasium doors. And there’s a collective, awestruck gasp from the team of younger boys, mixed with the faces of delighted surprise of the alumni, to see the figure struggling with his shoes at the entrance.

Hinata feels his heart plummet all the way down to his feet.

Kageyama takes both his shoes in his hands, then draws himself up to his full height. His eyes take in the gathering of mismatched players in the aging gymnasium, before finally they land—almost impulsively—on Hinata. “Sorry I’m late.”

 

 

 

 

If there’s one thing Hinata can say about his second home, it’s that he’d never once thought it to be _too small._ But perhaps they’d entered into some alternate dimension in which buildings became smaller and smaller each time a volleyball hit the ground, because otherwise he can’t explain why, when Kageyama’s standing all the way on the other side of the room, he feels like he’s suffocating.

Blue eyes unexpectedly catch his, and Hinata can’t very well pretend he hadn’t seen when they directly plead to him. _Help me._

He claps his hands once, laughing loudly. “All right, all right! Boys, leave Kageyama-kun alone. You’ll have plenty of time to ask him questions later, but all the nice senpai who’ve come to help today are running on busy schedules, so we need to get this game started!”

He ushers them away with a few bats of his hands, making them all disperse, and finally Kageyama looks like he can breathe freely again.

“Aren’t you used to that by now, being a famous volleyball player and all?” Hinata asks pointedly.

He looks uncomfortable. “You never really get used to that.”

“Hmm...” Hinata replies vaguely, then side-steps just a little farther away from his old partner. From standing this close, he can tell that Kageyama smells sweet and minty, like clean aftershave. He wonders what he smells like; probably like his faded tracksuit, or the ramen he had slurped hastily on his lunch break.

Tanaka suddenly appears to swing an arm around Kageyama’s neck, yanking him down to his own height so he can jam his knuckles into the top of the setter’s head in a show of affection. “Hey, brat, we saw your interview last year on _JSports!_ Good to see we kept you humble!”

“Next time you gotta use my full name:  _Nishinoya Yuu,”_ Noya adds. “None of the girls believed me when I said you were talking about me!”

Kageyama blinks once, still lopsided and trapped in his senpai’s strong hold. “Uhh. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And we’re taking you out for a drink tonight, swear on our manly prides!” They bounce away to their allotted side of the net.

“Those two never change, do they?” Hinata laughs, smiling after them fondly.

Kageyama huffs, batting down his shirt, and breathes, “He’s _strong.”_ His neck’s turning red from the rough skin-on-skin contact and Hinata laughs outright at the sight of it. The setter can’t seem to decide whether he’s bothered by this or not, so he settles for gruffly asking, “Did you watch the interview, too?”

That sobers him up quickly. His laughter subsiding, he stares down at his jittery, swaying feet, hands jammed in the pockets of his track pants. “...Yeah. I did.”

 

 

_(Hey, Kageyama)?_

_(Were you really going to say my name back then)?_

 

 

He snickers, “What was with that hideous bowtie? It looked so stupid, like a clown threw up on it or something. And not in the good way!”

“When is that _ever_ good, stupid—” he starts to say, but then seems to think better of it. Instead, he sighs. “Don’t start with me. My agent thought it would be a good idea, then she got _mad_ at me for choosing that one? I don’t know what she wants.”

“Uh. Whoa.” Hinata stares. “You have an agent.”

“Well, yeah…”

He looks uncomfortable again. Hinata doesn’t like it; Kageyama has never been the type of boy who ever looked particularly comfortable in his own skin, but he doesn’t like him looking so out of place in the gym they had once ruled together as boys. Perhaps it had never been a second home for Kageyama, he thinks, and suddenly his old partner seems worlds away. He wonders if this gym seems too small to Kageyama too, who’s surely now used to bigger, grander things.

“And she let you come here?” he asks, unsurely.

Something dark flashes in his eyes. “No. She didn’t want me to. But...”

Hinata swallows, his stomach curling, to see Kageyama’s handsome features sharpened by the angle of the light.

“I wanted to be here.”

 

 

 

 

The boys’ team loses spectacularly to their alumni. Hinata had expected it. The volleyball team at Karasuno, though once a rising powerhouse during his stay, had fallen again in recent years when Hinata had returned to his cherished high school. He’d pieced the team back together painstakingly, and most of the boys were still unsure or unwilling participants. And this team, versus the old legends of Karasuno High, had never stood a chance.

All is not lost, however. The presence of a volleyball star alone seems to raise their spirits. But then the setter of the team gets pulled aside by Kageyama and Suga to talk strategies, the shy #6 who had stuck by Yamaguchi’s side seems dazzled by his tales of the jump-float serve, Daichi calls the team captain “strong and dependable, with a good head on your shoulders” and makes him blush, and Tanaka (who had lost his shirt some time during the match) and Noya continue to be themselves and induce volleyball-glee to all those gathered. This is everything Hinata had been hoping for, he thinks contently.

“You played well today,” he tells his boys affectionately, ruffling the head of anyone he can reach.

“Coach, Coach!” their vice chirps, shooting his hand into the air. “Since Kageyama-san is here and all, could we please, _please_ see your famous quick strike in action?”

His mouth parts. “Uhh.”  _I don’t know if that’s a good idea,_ he wants to say, looking to meet Kageyama’s eyes.

But the rest of the boys have started chattering excitedly in agreement, and then Tanaka throws back his head and laughs, “Oh, let ‘em see it, Hinata! It’ll do them some good!”

“...I’m okay with it,” Kageyama adds quietly, and Hinata’s eyes snap to his. Something passes between them, then—an age-old solidarity he hasn’t felt with _anyone_ since the two had graduated and his partner had moved on to bigger and better things.

Warmth sparks in Hinata’s cheeks. Six, long years it’s been since the last time he and Kageyama had stood on a court together, two halves of a partnership, putting unwavering trust in one another. He’s never found anyone like that since, though once or twice he had wondered whether Kageyama had found someone on his new, national team who brought him the same thrill they had once sought together.

Kageyama begins to lightly toss the ball into the air, waiting for his run-up.

And Hinata, he starts off at one end of the net, and then he’s running, _sprinting,_ going full throttle at break net speed like he hasn’t since he was a teenager, the scenery blurring around him, the gym fading away, the view from the top beckoning him to jump, reach for the sky, the volleyball Kageyama had set is right in front of him, he just has to hit it like old times, he goes in for a spike and—

—he misses.

The ball just grazes his fingertips, before bouncing off the top of the net and quietly rolling away from the boys. Hinata lands back on his feet with a soft _tap,_ staring at the ground, stricken. How, _just how,_ could he miss?

“...Hinata,” Kageyama begins gruffly.

“D-Don’t mind!” Daichi’s voice booms, and then he’s clapping to put the silent spectators at ease. “It’s been a few years since you’ve done it, you’re bound to be rusty. But I know you two. A couple more tries and you’ll get it right.”

“I...” He stares down at his hand, heart pounding. “Yeah...”

But the next one is also a miss, the next barely grazes his fingers, the next doesn’t even do that. And Kageyama’s looking at him strangely, the kids have started whispering among themselves, his tracksuit feels sticky and big, and Hinata swallows a lump in his throat, wants to tell them that he’s not as great as he once was, that he can’t jump so high anymore, can’t run as fast anymore, he can’t be as good as Kageyama’s new team, new partner, can’t hit his tosses anymore, he just can’t can’t _can’t—_

_“Hey!”_

That’s Kageyama’s voice, he realizes, and then there’s a fist around his collar, a face in his, and Kageyama’s angry, steely eyes are all he can see.

“Stop fucking around,” he snarls, yanking him closer. “Volleyball isn’t some _joke._ Get it right.”

Hinata stares at the ground in shame, wants to tell him he can’t. _Let me go, stupid, you’re scaring the boys,_ he wants to say, though Suga’s already saying it for him and Tanaka’s already making a motion to rip them apart.

“If you can’t believe in yourself,” he hisses, throwing him back, “then believe in _me.”_

_Like you once used to._

Hinata stares. He barely registers when Tanaka jostles his shoulders, asking him if he’s all right. “Y-Yeah. I’m okay. I think... I wanna try one more time.”

Kageyama’s waiting impatiently, his face reminiscent of those early Karasuno years when Hinata would call him “turtle face” for how ugly and wrinkly he looked when he frowned, earning him a swift kick to his side. Kageyama’s turtle face is calming now, in some way.

So Hinata starts his run up, feet thumping over the floorboards, going so fast he’s a blur even though his legs have started _burning_ from overuse. The ceiling lights are blinding when he leaps, drowning out even his partner in white, but then his lashes flutter, vision going murky, and then all he sees is black, hears the sharp wind in his ears, senses the ball coming his way, and every lick of him _trusts_ that Kageyama will get it where it needs to be.

His palm connects.

The boys erupt into cheers. “Coach, that was _so cool!_ So _fast!_ I couldn’t even see it!”

Hinata plants his feet back down, taking in air in large gulps, just _beaming_ at his old partner. And Kageyama—he’s beaming right back, or doing his own twisted version of it, arms raised high in celebration. Looking back it’s clear he’d been going in for a high-five, something he’d learned and grown accustomed to and even begun to love back during his Karasuno days. It’s obvious later that he’d just wanted to celebrate with sharp, skin-burning slaps like they’d once used to. But Hinata, he’s still running on adrenaline, he’s _so happy,_ that he crosses the distance in two strides and throws himself into Kageyama’s arms.

“We did it, we did it!” he cheers, giggling like mad, pressing his cheek against Kageyama’s clean, minty-smelling chest.

Kageyama goes stiff against him, hands still uselessly suspended in the air. The cheers of the boys stutter, then completely fall silent, though Hinata doesn’t realize this sudden shift in mood until their vice-captain fiddles with his glasses and weakly mumbles, “C-Coach?”

He stills, then glances up. Kageyama’s looking down at him, his whole bottom lip sucked under his teeth, though it’s wobbling like it once used to when he would touch a volleyball after too long off the court. His cheeks have turned a raging plum red.

“I—whoa!” He quickly lets go, springing backwards, and slaps his hands over his cheeks so no one could tell they weren’t red from the sting. “S-Sorry, Kageyama, just got caught up in the moment—you know how it goes!”

Yamaguchi’s quiet voice pipes up from somewhere in the back. “I feel like I should honor Tsukki’s absence and tell them to get a room or something.”

Noya snickers. Hinata ducks, face between his knees. _God,_ he feels so _foolish._

But then a foot suddenly plants itself on the back of his head, sending him sprawling ungracefully onto the gym floor. He turns around with a snappy “hey!” to find Kageyama glaring down at him, though the effect is a bit lost by the still-reddening apples of his cheeks.

“Stop being weird, stupid. That’s exactly what I was going for,” he huffs, grumbling through his nose. “Nice kill.”

He stalks away angrily, though no one is really fooled by his show of irritation; they know when he’s being truly angry or when it just stems from being out of his comfort zone. He’s clearly far, _far_ out of his comfort zone, least of all because he’d managed not to raise his voice at all. But then, Hinata thinks, this might just be the way Kageyama is now, and he just doesn’t know him anymore as well as he used to. He looks so impressive, so board-shouldered and grown, from his view down here on the floor.

Kageyama unexpectedly catches his eye. “You gonna laze around on the ground all damn _day?”_

He grabs the back of Hinata’s hoodie and pulls him to his feet. From this close, Hinata can see that his cheeks have still yet to lose their color. He carefully wets his lips, his heartbeat quickening.

 

 

_(Kageyama)?_

_(I owe everything to you too, so)—_

_(Won’t you tell me what you were going to say back then)?_

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The bar’s started to quiet down a little. It’s not very late just yet, but it’s also the night of a work day, so the few drunken salarymen who had occupied the counter slowly stumble out one by one, and then the only patrons that remain are those who had quietly taken booths for themselves.

“’sahi-san, have ya considered trimmin’ your b-beardo into those funny, old emperorrrr ones?” Noya slurs, a glint in his eye as he uncaps the pen they had been given along with their check, determined to draw his drunken vision.

“W-Wait, Nishinoya, don’t!” The giant trembles, scooting back in his seat even as the deviant libero approaches.

Tanaka snores loudly, his hand still tightly gripping his bottle.

Hinata plays with his cup, then occasionally peeks at Kageyama, who’s quietly doing the same. Alcohol seems to have subdued the setter, but then, he’s never been very good at conversation, and truth be told, Hinata just doesn’t remember anymore how he used to talk to him.

He hadn’t even planned on coming. With everyone gone or close to, he’d been quietly locking up the gym while Tanaka and Noya made loud exclamations about keeping good on their promise of buying Kageyama a drink, when suddenly the setter had grabbed him by the arm and blurted out, “Aren’t you coming, too?”

Something had closed up his throat.

And now here he was.

It had been a little easier with the other third-years present, but Daichi and Suga had both called in an early night, what with their clinic to open early in the morning. They’d said quiet farewells to Kageyama at the door, whom they knew would be unlikely to show his face around these parts again any time soon. Then Suga had pulled him down to his own level, to cup his hand around his ear and whisper something into it that had clearly caused him to startle, though Hinata had hastened to pretend he _wasn’t_ watching the setter and had missed overhearing anything.

“Asahi-san is easy to bully,” Hinata notes. “I think Nishinoya-san likes that.”

“I think there’s a term for people like that...” Kageyama mumbles, watching the two fight like the pen was actually a sword the libero meant to plunge into the giant’s heart. “He’s very hard to say no to.”

Hinata laughs at his grimace, then wants to know, “How did he even manage to get you here, though?”

“We... ran into each other.” Kageyama circles the rim of his cup, and for some reason, he seems hesitant to divulge the story. “He told me about the practice match. Said you were struggling with getting those kids to enjoy volleyball, and me being there might help? I don’t know, I don’t think it did...”

Hinata shoves him, grinning. “You _kidding?_ They’re gonna go on about you for _days,_ it’s gonna be _so insufferable!”_ The setter harrumphs loudly, and he laughs. “Where did you two meet each other anyway?”

Kageyama stiffens. He notices it over the rim of his cup. “Just... outside his school.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Looking for someone.” He hesitates, breath catching. Then blue eyes catch Hinata’s warm, brown ones, and they say what he can’t seem to voice: _You._

“Oh.” He slowly sets down his cup. The back of his neck feels warm. Once, a long time, he and Yamaguchi had again become juniors under Tanaka and Nishinoya on their university team, but that seems like something he’d imagined now. Life had planned other things for him, though failing his classes and ultimately dropping out of college hadn’t been the most optimistic point in his life. He’d worked odd jobs here and there for a while, before eventually a good friend had landed him a part-time job at a physical therapy clinic, where he’d learned enough that when his old vice-principal had approached him, offering him work as Karasuno’s PE teacher and maybe coaching the volleyball team to reform it to its previous glory, Hinata had seen no reason to decline. Occasionally he even volunteers at Natsu’s neighborhood volleyball club.

He’s settled into this life, with its bumpy road and many turns, and he’s happy enough. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this curdling sensation _—shame—_ but sitting next to Kageyama, who’s so impressive with his professional career and burning passion for volleyball and the new hint of maturity in his eyes, Hinata can’t help but feel he’ll never match up to this boy.

“Yeah, you won’t find me there anymore,” he laughs breezily, picking up his cup again. “I’ve been working at Karasuno for a few years now. I even bought an apartment near there.” It’s small, nothing impressive at first glance, but Hinata likes it.

Kageyama stares at him hard for a moment, before he slowly breathes out, stares down at his cup, and mutters, “I flunked out of college.”

Hinata gapes.

“My mom wanted me to go, so...” He waves a hand aimlessly. “I didn’t make it through the first semester. I didn’t understand anything. I didn’t see _why_ I had to go when I had already made the national team. I guess volleyball’s all I’m good at. If I hadn’t made the team _,_ I don’t even know what I would have done.”

“I didn’t know you even went to college,” Hinata replies, carefully. He wonders, is Kageyama lowering himself for him, sharing his flaws like this?

“My agent thought it would be bad for it to get around that I dropped out.” He frowns. “She told me not to tell anyone and just focus on training.”

Hinata frowns too, feeling agitated for some reason. “Your agent doesn’t sound like a very nice lady.”

“She’s all right, she says she’s looking out for me.” He shrugs, staring down at his hands. “She got mad at me last year, for what I did at the interview? Mentioning you guys.” 

“Why?” he demands crabbily. “You were honoring your senpai. Isn’t that a noble thing to do?”

“She said I shouldn’t be reminding everyone I went to Karasuno, because it just reminds everyone I couldn’t get into Shiratorizawa.”

 _“What the heck?_ What a rude lady!” he exclaims, slamming his hand on the tabletop. “We made it to nationals with this team, isn’t that _worth_ something? _God,_ I’m gonna march straight to Tokyo, or wherever the hell her office is, and just let her have one! Or, you know, I could just send her one of those evil chain mails that curse you, like Natsu always does. What’s her number, Kageyama?”

He’s already reaching into his pocket, fuming, when Kageyama rests a hand over his to halt him. Hinata looks up to meet his eyes, and finds that he’s smirking fondly. All the fight drains out of him.

“Settle down, idiot,” he remarks. “She’s twice your size.”

“I could take her,” he mumbles, with no real bite anymore. Kageyama’s hand is still holding on to his.  _“God,_ I just really don’t like how she...”

He doesn’t like her belittling Karasuno, the time he and Kageyama had spent together as partners, with the best team either of them had ever had. He doesn’t like her acting like Karasuno is only a shameful period in Kageyama’s history, one that he should abandon in his journey forward. He doesn’t like her telling Kageyama to just forget Karasuno, because essentially, it means forgetting Hinata.

Kageyama’s eyes pierce his. Something passes through them, like it has been all evening. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Me, neither.”

Then he leans forward and brushes their lips together.

Hinata blinks, once, twice, and then it’s over. Kageyama’s still smirking when he pulls away, holding onto his hand properly now, and flicks his nose just a little hard when he won’t snap out of his daze.

Hinata jolts.  _“Gah?”_

“I owe Sugawara-san for a lot more now,” Kageyama muses. Then he glances at Hinata uncertainly for a moment, adding, “He said I should do that...?” _Was that okay?_

“Y-Y-Y-Y-Yeah!” he squeaks. “Yeah, you should have! I-I-I mean, it was _—g_ _ood._ I mean... _whaaaat?"_

“Quiet down, stupid, you’re gonna wake Tanaka-san.”

_“How can I when you—”_

Kageyama claps a hand over his mouth to quiet his flailing. Hinata struggles for a moment, but he’s got his other hand intertwined with his own, and neither of them plans to pull away, so his fight is weak and futile. Eventually he quiets down, and that’s when the setter leans in close.

“Listen, I’m only gonna say this once, so pay attention,” he grumbles, shooting a quick look over his shoulder to check their senpai are occupied. Whatever he means to say seems like a struggle just to form past his throat. “I-I miss _—_ I owe everything to _—_ volleyball isn’t the same without you.” For a moment his face softens, until embarrassment instantly hardens his features again. _“Got it?”_

Hinata uses the split second of weakness to finally rip his hand away, and then he leans in and presses a loud, messy kiss on his lips. “Yeah!” he laughs, especially when Kageyama seems shocked into utter silence.

 

 

_(Say, Kageyama)?_

_(Volleyball just isn’t volleyball without you, too)._

_(Now kiss me again)!_

 

 

They leave their drunken senpai in Asahi’s nervous but capable hands, and escape together into the quiet streets. Hinata is reluctant to hold hands here.

“Won’t your agent _—”_

“I don’t care what she says.”

So they wander brazenly with their fingers overlapping, looking at things old and new as Kageyama rediscovers this old town. Eventually they pass Karasuno, looking silver and majestic in the moonlight, and Hinata blurts out his thoughts.

“You’re not staying, are you?”

Kageyama shuffles from one foot to another, before sighing gruffly. “I’m leaving in the morning. It was supposed to be tonight, but as long as I make it to morning practice, no one will say anything.”

So this moment can’t last forever. Both of them had known it, even when they had shared that first kiss. Kageyama is still part of a whole different world, one that demands his presence more than Hinata feels he has any right to. Tomorrow Kageyama will be gone, and maybe they’d try long distance, maybe they wouldn’t, maybe they’d fail, maybe they wouldn’t, maybe they’d make it, maybe they _—_

 _God,_ he hopes they make it.

“Sooo. If you were planning to leave tonight, does that mean you don’t have a place to stay?”

The dilemma seems to occur to Kageyama only now. “Oh. I guess.”

Hinata sways. “I’m just asking because I’ve got my own place, if you don’t mind a roommate for a night. It’s close to here. It’s kinda small, and I’ve only got one futon. But. It’s not bad. If you want...”

The suggestion hangs in the air. Both their faces are burning.

Then Kageyama clears his throat, stands pin-straight like he’s meeting Hinata’s parents or something equally scary or serious, and speaks clearly into the night. “Take me.”

Hinata obeys, pulling along his hand _—_ this godly hand that’s precious to the world, without which Kageyama could not make his livelihood. The hand that had led Japan to the semi-finals. The hand that was attuned to Hinata’s every move, every leap, everything, even after six years apart. This hand that is now his to hold as much as he wants.

Karasuno disappears around the corner, but they both know it would always be there whenever they choose to return.

 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> soundtrack for this: [this town](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ic1l36GrNOU) by niall horan.
> 
> this was inspired, as you can probably guess, by [this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Ckmcw9pUUAADIqo.jpg) scene in the manga. i just feel kageyama is definitely the type to hold on to that promise!
> 
> i have some headcanons about where karasuno ends up in this future!verse i've written that are dying to be told. i tried to mention them seamlessly in the fic, but the rest of the supplementary material can be found [here](http://skiecas.tumblr.com/private/152635542712/tumblr_og0capamAc1udrd5a). you don't have to read it at all, though; it's just my own musings, and to build the world a little bit more.


End file.
